Vivica
by HeartShapeBruise
Summary: Hermione's life after Hogwarts is nothing like she planned


Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me! They belong to the all- mighty JK Rowling. I just borrowed them to write this story, but you can have them back!  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: Hermione's Life after hogwarts is nothing like she planned.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"I watch you burn in humid hell  
No sleeping pills or old tattoos  
Will save you now  
He'll never change  
He's just too vain  
He'll never say you're beautiful."  
  
Vivica - Jack Off Jill  
  
~*~*~  
  
She laid on the bed. Hoping he wouldn't come home until later that evening. Everything was fucked. Her life wasn't what she dreamed of, not anything like it. When she was thirteen, she dreamed of becoming a famous witch, solving problems left and right, making a cure for AIDs and a counter spell for the fatal Avada Kedavra. But everything was different.  
  
In Her fifth year, she and Ron had started to date. It seemed, at the time, that everything was falling roses. They were ignorant to the world around them. Everyday was paradise, even when their classmate Dean Thomas was murdered over the summer. They didn't seem to care. But after they left hogwarts and decided to live on their own, it was different. They quickly lost contact with Harry; after all he was probably saving the day, or playing Quidditch, or maybe both. This is Harry Potter are talking about, after all. Anyway, Hermione and Ron's relationship started to lose the sparkle after they were on their own. Hermione was working on getting her degree and Ron was at the ministry, working for his dad. Then it started to happen. Hermione lost focus on her education, trying to find a muggle job to pay the bills. Ron was working late, coming home around midnight, only to sleep and wake in the early morning hours. Hermione grew lonely, and soon quit her new job as a waitress. After many months Hermione tried to break things off. But Ron wouldn't have it. Later that year Ron become angry, with what, not even he knew himself. But he took it out on Hermione. Sometimes it was physically, others it was sexually. At first hermione would resist, even calling the local police. However, Hermione had grown dependent on Ron, since loosing her friendship with Harry. Soon she started to believe every word Ron said, saying she was horrible, worthless, a waste of human flesh. Why would as smart as Hermione fall for such an act. Because there was no one else to tell her otherwise.  
  
So there she was, laying on her bed, only thinking about her Hogwarts days and how she wished and prayed things came out different. The familiar feeling of the sleeping pill started to affect her, and she was falling into a slumber. The feeling of easiness and serenity was gone after she heard that Slam. That slam meant Ron was home, and he would probably want dinner. Or sex. Hermione shuddered at the thought of being intimate with a man who beat the shit out of her on a daily basis, or at least until his temper blew off. Ron always did have a bad temper.  
  
"Hermione! I'm home!" His voice was abnormally cheerful. Hermione dragged herself out of bed, and walked out into the living room. Ron was putting his cloak up, and he settled on the couch. Hermione stood at the doorway, like a child looking if there was a monster outside her room. "Your never going to believe the day I had. I walked into Dad's office and said to him "Dad, I need a raise or."  
  
"Your still in your Pajamas." It was true. Hermione had done nothing all day, except for the occasional cry, or the getting up to get a glass of water so she could swallow her sleeping pills. "You mean to tell me that for ten hours, you haven't done anything but stay in your room and mope? What the hell is the matter with you?" Hermione kept silent. She looked into Ron's eye and there was anger brewing.  
  
"Damn it! Why don't you ever answer me anymore? " His hands gripped the coffee table. "What's wrong with you?" Ron crossed the room to where she stood, and grabbed her upper arms. "ANSWER ME."  
  
Hermione didn't answer, because she knew if she told the truth, Ron would only beat her, and if she kept quite Ron would still beat her, until he got tired. So what was the use in trying to defend herself? Ron's grip on her arms grew stronger; his knuckles turned a ghostly white. Hermione felt a tingly sensation in her fingers, mainly due to the lack of circulation in her arms. Ron let out a roar in frustration, and threw Hermione's body against the wall with all his might. Then He raised his hand to slap her face. It didn't bother hermione, She was use to it, after all, don't you get use to every type of pain, if you get it long enough, and you almost become immune to it. Hermione curled into a ball, but somehow Ron managed to get a hold of her, slapped her again.  
  
"Talk to me!"  
  
Hermione kept her mouth shut. She couldn't tell him. He would kill her if she did. Ron seemed to only be enraged more by her silence. His slapping turned into punching, and when Hermione was sobbing on the ground, he kicked her stomach. Hermione didn't know how long the abuse went on for, but the delayed effect of the sleeping pills finally kicked in, and before the beating was finished she was asleep.  
  
The cold water splashed her face, running down her neck. It was refreshing, and kept her awake. When Hermione looked up, she was mortified at the reflection. Her eyes were swollen from the constant crying, and turned an interesting shade of pink. There was a bruise forming by her cheekbone, and another one by her throat. Her complexion was pale as the moon, and hair was even more uncontrollable, frizzy and stubborn as ever. Her white nightgown was smeared in red blood. Ron kicked her so hard, he ripped her skin, and now there was a stain on her gown, but also on Ron's new rug. Hermione winced at the beating she would get for that one.  
  
There was a part inside hermione that kicked herself for not standing up to him, for telling him off and calling someone to help her. But the other part of hermione said this is how it's supposed to be. Everything was right, She loved Ron, and Ron loved her, but Hermione always messed up, and Ron was just punishing her. Not that she didn't blame him, it was her fault that she was depressed and couldn't be happy. She lost contact with her friend, being isolated by school. It was Her fault, not Ron's and Ron was trying to encourage her.  
  
"Yes that's it. He loves me" But her heart wavered. Perhaps he loved her, but she didn't love him. She loved someone else. And they don't know it; no one knows who her heart cries for every night. Her thoughts drifted to her Fourth year. That year was her favorite, before she and Ron were dating and Voldemort's Killing sprees had begun. It was also one of the last times Hermione was happy. Oh sure, some people think she was happy with Ron, but on the inside, not even Hermione knew at the time, She was dieing. It was one of the last times she was truly full of joy. Hermione felt her eyes tear up with the memories that seemed so many decades ago, but was only two years since Ron and Hermione were on there own. If only.  
  
It didn't matter anyway they can never love me. They will never say I'm beautiful. It was hopeless. Hermione grabbed her pills from the Medicine Cabinet, and took three from the container. Gulping down some water, she swallowed the pills. Everyday would be like today. Nothing will change. He will never love her. Hermione was empty.  
  
She takes the pills to fall asleep  
  
and dreams that she's invisible  
  
Tormented dreams she stay awake  
recalls when she was capable...  
  
Yea, I know the ending was terrible, but I wanted to stop writing. Please please please review my story. I worked really hard to write it. The inspiration was the song 'Vivica' by Jack off Jill. 


End file.
